Joni has to pee

I am waiting to change from the F to C train at Jay street. Despite my tardiness for  work, I am quite content sipping my large Mudd coffee and listening to a Joni Mitchell song on my Blackberry. Twenty minutes go by and I notice a hippie cougar with a flannel shirt and gray down vest, the first I've seen this season.  I am amused at the coincidence of the song and the cougar.

It's all quite pleasant until I notice a very expensive looking hard  black suitcase with wheels by her side. She then abandons the luggage and a voice inside my head says, if you see something say something. Could this hippie cougar really be some off the grid terrorist? With alacrity, I step ten paces away from the beauty product bomb in Joni's suitcase.

Now Joni is making her way to the trash can in the middle of the platform. Is she reaching for the remote which will trigger the explosion? No, it's a 32 oz. paper cup with a Pepsi logo. I am overcome with relief. She isn't a terrorist at all -she's a crazy homeless person. Phewww.

But wait, now Joni is unbuttoning her jeans. With great concentration, she  furtively jams the cup between her legs. Joni has to pee. I am empathetic having had a spastic colon condition when I first came to NYC. It would always kick in on the subway where bathrooms did not exist. I wonder. Is this physically possible. Can a woman, in the best circumstances, pee in a cup standing? I do not have Our Bodies, Ourselves handy.

Luckily, the train arrives and I hop on. As the A train pulls away from the station, I watch the dark blue cloud as is expands on Joni's jeans.